The Downfall
by Twix96
Summary: One vengeful witch...One redeeming wizard...What happens when they both meet and realize they have more history than they thought? Will her master plan of sweet revenge get in the way of their relationship? Or will it just bring them closer? Draco/OC pairing.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One 

The rain beats heavily against the glass windows in my bedroom. This is the usual lethargic weather that makes us feel sluggish in the morning. I untangle myself from my duvet and get out of bed, my long black-brown hair sticking out in different angles. The thunder becomes louder as I am brushing my teeth and washing my face. I am getting ready for another day at work.

I am eighteen years old and I live alone. Ever since I was eleven, I have lived in a foster home with muggles. Yes, I live in the normal part of London – the part where people do manual labor and think wands are just toys kids play with. I have a wand, a really good one in fact. But it is real. I can cast spells and everything. I was supposed to go to some magical school but things changed and I simply did not go. I was ready to, though. I got a wand and all the necessary school items but my life had changed drastically by then. And it was all because my parents were death eaters.

When I put on something decent, I head out of my apartment and order a latte from a coffee shop nearby. Then, I head off to the library to work. But this is only temporary. When I am ready, I will go to the bigger jobs, the bigger bloody jobs. I sip my latte as I head towards the librarian's desk at the main entrance of the library. No one comes in this early, just me. This library is my sanctuary.

The library is so peaceful and quiet that it is the best place to think. There are no disturbances – no talking in the library. The best corners for privacy can be found here. This is where I usually mull over my successful plans and the soon-to-be successful ones. When one sees me, they might not ever suspect an innocent-looking librarian capable of being much more than just that. I am not just a librarian slash witch. I am a killer.

That makes me smile. I cannot refer myself to a killer, more like avenger. Yes, that's better. I have been holding a grudge since I was eleven years old. I know; it is terribly unhealthy to hold a grudge for so long. Some even become insane but whose fault is that? I have a very good reason why I am holding a grudge. Maybe the sight of my parents' dead bodies scarred me to life. The bloody aurors did not care. What would have they accomplished in killing two death eaters out of so many? Someone betrayed my parents and led the aurors to just them. None of the others were found.

My latte is left untouched as I remember how my life turned out later. No one thought I was alive after my parents' ordeal. Not even fellow death eaters they called friends. What were their names again? Malfoy or something? It was easy for me to vanish out of the wizard world and plan my revenge slowly and carefully. How I learnt magic was simple. I did not need every single thing. I just needed to learn the basics, the dark arts and unforgivable spells. And fortunately, my parents had sources. One man, specifically, worked at Borgin and Burkes. He knew dark arts and agreed to teach me, _secretly. _

When the time was right, I proceeded on my plan which was to take down the ministry of magic bit by bit.

"Melissa!" what a boring name. Luckily, not my real name. "Good morning!"

"Hi," I reply distractedly. "Lovely weather today, isn't it?" My muggle friend, Jessica, nods and removes her heavy coat to adjust to the room temperature.

"I don't know how you manage to always bring hot drinks from the coffee shop through the rain," she sighs. "Mine always gets cold."

I shrug. "Maybe I'm just lucky," under the desk, I am fiddling with the wand hidden in my black leather jacket, disguised as a pen. "I think we should just close down the place for a little while."

"No way! Come on, Mel," Jessica protests. I sigh.

"No one comes here in this weather!" I reply.

"Give it time," Jessica seems stubborn about keeping the library open. I go back to drinking my latte.

The whole day is practically a bust. The library was deserted all morning and around three pm it does not get much better. Only about a few people came in to return borrowed books and get new ones. I smile at the final customer as I check out a novel.

"Well, that's the final customer," I say, getting up. I'm talking to myself really because Jessica is nowhere to be found. She has obviously gone home, leaving me in charge of locking up the library. With a quick hand gesture, everything is neatly arranged and prepared for another day. My wandless magic should not be underestimated.

The rain beats as heavily as it did in the morning. That is how it signals the end of a day. I grab my coat, covering my head with the hood and run out into the cold rain. I run into the alleyway between the library building and an apartment building. I am pretty sure I am alone so now would be a good time to Disapparate.

When I take a relaxing hot bath and wear something more comfortable, I enjoy microwave dinner on the couch in front of the blaring television. Once I am done, I observe the wizard world. My teacher from Borgin and Burkes, Hamish, sends me newspapers every day. My killings have plagued the wizard world with anticipation and dread to what happens next. I almost feel sorry for them. After what happened with Voldemort, they at least need to know how it feels like to not look over their shoulders. But then I remember my parents and my mind shifts to the rancor I am supposed to feel for them.

I know I will never get caught because over there they do not think that someone called Elisa Williams still exists. Yes, my real name is Elisa. They think I disappeared once my parents died. So they all think I am dead. If they are searching for suspects, none of them will ever think of coming into a muggle library in muggle London searching for a wizard or witch responsible for the killings. All I can do is sit back and watch as the wizard world begins to shatter as their precious ministry crumples to pieces. I should feel guilty or afraid. But in my mind, only one sentence seems to register there: They deserve it.

I may seem proud of my plans and happy with my secret life but it is always temporary. As I lie in bed at night, I cannot use Occlumency to even block out the scariest nightmares. Every night I wake up trembling with tears pouring out of my eyes. It is the same state Hamish found me in the day my parents died. Hamish said it was bad. So he taught me how to bottle up my emotions and keep an indifferent mask on my face all the time. I used to cry everyday at first but now I only cry when I do not control my mind. My parents deserve that at least, right?

My nightmares are mostly the same – me sitting on the stairs as the front doors burst open, my parents defending themselves hopelessly against five or so aurors, their bodies tumbling to the ground, wands too far for them to reach. Then there is that piercing scream that echoes through the house and fades away, like my parents struggling on the floor from pain. Just like the scream, the sound of their movements slowly fades until they are too weak to fight and they just fall limp on the floor. My mother's head moves to the side, her green eyes making contact with mine. She was sending me a message. I used to think she said 'I love you' but now I believe she meant 'take those bastards down'. And I kept my word.

It is drizzling the next day. Maybe we will get more customers since the weather is not holding anyone hostage in shelter. Today I keep my hair down. I am wearing a black tank top and black jeans with a red leather jacket. I am able to get to work on time and sit down at my usual desk, checking out the list of borrowed books with headphones in my ears. Jessica is unpacking a box of new books in the storage room upstairs.

Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, the front door opens. I remove my headphones and look up just in time to see a flash of blonde hair disappear behind the shelves. This is odd. Customers do not usually come in at this time. I shrug it off and continue to check the borrowed books. Shit, some are overdue. The person is now displayed before me as he comes out from between the bookshelves. His expression is one of a lost puppy. I stifle a laugh.

"Can I help you with something?" I ask, showing off my trademark smirk. I lean back on my chair nonchalantly as the person turns around to look at me. His grey eyes widen when he realizes that he has to give me a reply.

Hesitantly, he speaks. "I'm, uh, looking for a book about gardening." I observe him closely. He does not seem like a gardener.

"For my mother," he adds as if reading my mind.

Placing my indifferent mask on, I point to one of the bookshelves. "Didn't you check the books categorized under the letter 'G'?"

"They're placed in alphabetical order?" he asks confused, mainly to himself. I nod in affirmation.

"No offence, but are you new here? You seem lost. I haven't seen you before in this side of town," I make conversation, mostly because I am curious about this weird newcomer.

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't live here. I'm just passing by," he mutters. Not much of a verbose person I see. Finally, he finds a book and pulls it out, scrutinizing it before smirking. "I'd like to buy this please." He comes over to me and drops the book before me.

"Okay, it costs 20 pounds," I answer. He frowns and searches his pockets.

"I don't have that much," he says.

"Well, sorry for you," I answer, about to take the book. He immediately stops me.

"No, I need it," he protests. I look at his face. There are no signs of desperation. He is showing an indifferent expression.

"Doesn't seem like it," I mutter.

"Can I pay half now and half later?" he asks. I sigh. At least he seems a bit desperate now.

"Alright, just write your name here and the payment you're making. And contact information as well as address," he nods and takes the pen I offer to him.

"What's your name?" he asks me, without looking up.

"That's not important," I say curtly.

"Come on," he looks up. "I'm curious."

I decide to tell him. What could a random stranger do anyway? He is just a muggle. "Melissa," I answer. He smirks.

"Melissa," he repeats. "Lovely name," he adds. He hands me the paper he wrote on and I fold it in front of me without reading it.

"So, I'll be seeing you again soon, Melissa?" he asks, handing me half of the payment. I am about to nod when my eyes land on something on his arm partly hidden by his jacket, something too familiar to me. My eyes widen instantly as I realize the big mistake I have just done.

"I'm sorry," I say grabbing his arm and pulling up his sleeve all the way, just to look at it.

"Hey! What are you doing?" he snaps. I hold him in a tight grip; when was the last time I saw this? The colour has faded and…and… bloody hell; I just familiarized with a wizard. I let him pull his arm away. "Why do you look so surprised?" he asks, pulling down his sleeves. Then he seems to think about everything that just happened. He looks at me and it is as if he sees right through me, right through the big complicated web called my life. "Are you a…?"

Immediately, I shuffle books on the desk. "Thank you for visiting our library. Please come back again soon," I almost shove the book in his hands.

"We're not done talking…" the front door opens and another customer enters.

"How may I help you, miss?" I ask, my voice quivering just a bit. The woman approaches the desk. The wizard leans in and breathes on my face.

"You haven't seen the last of me. I'll be back," he whispers and disappears quickly out the door. The woman hands me a book she borrowed and as I begin to check it I notice the folded paper on my desk. My hands are shaky as I unfold it and my mind focuses on the name of the wizard I just encountered: Draco Malfoy.

* * *

The last time I saw the Malfoy family was in the summer of 1991. We had visited the Malfoy manor for some sort of gathering my parents never bothered to explain to me about. They always said that we were going to a boring party. They never told me how strong the purebloods believed in superiority amongst other wizards – half-bloods and muggle- borns to be precise.

The manor was gigantic, surrounded by thick, neatly-trimmed bushes. We were welcomed by a rush of cold air on our faces as we made our way to the entrance. It was an eerie place and I always felt uneasy there. At night, the manor was almost camouflaged in the night sky. The dark grey sky seemed to be connected to the grey roof of the manor.

I was never close to Draco. Yes, we were familiar with each other and we knew each other since we were much younger but ever since he stole one of my favourite dragon toys when we were seven, I never really forgave him. He had an entire collection of them but he still chose to take one of mine.

On that particular night, Draco and the rest of the pureblood kids had gotten their letters from Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. I had gotten mine as well. The difference between the other purebloods and me is that I wanted to go to Hogwarts but they did not. They all had features of contempt on their faces when I went to see them at the party.

"Well, well, if it isn't the charming miss Williams," Blaise Zabini said to me when I entered the living room where all the kids were sitting and talking.

"You don't look so cheerful, Blaise," I answered. "What's got you all so angry?"

Draco stared at me and smirked. "You mean you didn't get a letter from Hogwarts?"

I smirked back. "I did, of course. Good news actually." I remember the other purebloods giving me snobby looks. "What house would you like to be placed in?"

"Slytherin," Draco and Blaise said in unison. These kids were meant for Slytherin – they were furtive, insatiable and deceiving. "What about you?" Draco asked.

"I'm just going to accept where the Sorting Hat places me," I answered.

"Don't act so noble; you might end up in Gryffindor," Draco said. I shrugged at that. "You know if you ended up in Gryffindor, you wouldn't be able to associate with us."

"You guys are mean anyway," I muttered. Draco seemed to have heard me.

"Williams, let me show you something," he got up and headed out the door, motioning for me to follow. I followed him, obviously because I was curious or just plain naïve to listen to anyone. Especially when it was Draco Malfoy I was listening to.

He took me to his bedroom and the first thing my eyes laid on was a shelf filled with dragon toys. My eyes narrowed into slits as I trudged my way towards it and grabbed the first dragon I saw.

"Did you just bring me here to taunt me?" I asked angrily. "The fact that you stole my dragon and lost it or what?"

"Listen, Elisa, just take any dragon from the shelf. I want you to take one," he explained, looking down at the dragon in my hand. "I see you've made your choice," he added. "Please pick another one, Elisa. That one's my favourite," he approached me to take the dragon from me but I did not allow it.

"No, Draco. You took my favourite one so I'm taking yours," I said. "We're even then," I added.

"Stubborn witch," he grumbled. "My father will hear about this."

I laughed. "What will you tell him? 'Father, Elisa Williams stole my favourite dragon toy just because I stole hers,'" I mimicked his voice.

"Shut up," he scowled.

"Come on; it's not the last time you see it," I said. "I will take it to Hogwarts. You can always see it."

"You're not going to Gryffindor, Elisa," he answered. "You're definitely going to Slytherin."

"Well if you're so sure," I headed to the door. "Then say goodbye to Precious, the most beautiful black dragon."

"I'll get you back for this," he threatened.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

I close up the library as the final customer leaves. It is not drizzling anymore; the rain has become stronger. I am not prepared for the cold rain as it falls on me like a bucket of ice water. I begin to shiver as my hair sticks to my face and my coat becomes heavier. I run into the alleyway and quickly fumble for my wand with my vacillating hands.

"Bloody hell," I mutter. My teeth start to chatter. I finally manage to hold a firm grasp on my wand and I Disapparate. In my apartment, I immediately cast a warming spell on myself, just to stop my shivering. I remove my heavy coat and drop it on the floor; I will bother about it later. Then, I sneeze. "Bloody great!"

I was supposed to go on another mission tomorrow night. But if I catch a cold, how will it be possible for me to carry out the plan quietly when I will be sniffing every two minutes and evacuating snot out of my nose? That would ruin my avenger reputation. I cannot cancel the plan for another day. My plans are time sensitive. I need to work with time or else…

I pour the contents from the sachet into the pot of boiling water. If I am determined to stay healthy for tomorrow, I am going to make some warm soup. Yes, that should do the trick. Soup will definitely help.

By the time I finish up my soup, I feel much better. Tomorrow I will be ready to proceed onto my next victim. It will be great…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"No!" I snap at my reflection. What I see in the mirror is a hideous version of me. My hair is messy as usual and my nose has become pink. I cannot smell anything and I have been sneezing for the past five minutes. "No! No! No!" I check my watch; I am late for work today. What has happened to me?

As fast as I can, I put on some clothes, wear a hoodie – it is raining again, and I head out of my apartment. By the time I arrive at the library, customers are checking books and Jessica is sitting at the desk. I keep my hoodie on and attempt to hide behind the bookshelves.

"Melissa, I saw you!" she exclaims. I sigh and head over towards the desk. She checks out the final customer and turns to me. "Bloody hell! What happened?" I sniff.

"I'm sick and I overslept. I'm sorry about that," I reply. My voice is strange to my own ears.

"Don't worry. The flu happens. Just go unpack the new boxes in storage. I'll do the work here," she says benevolently. I smile and get to work.

After thirty minutes, I am done unpacking two big boxes. I am wearing my headphones so I do not know whether there are customers or not. Suddenly, someone taps my shoulder. When I turn around, Jessica is standing there.

I remove my headphones. "You have a customer," she says. I frown. "He insists on seeing you. Stubborn person. Gorgeous, but stubborn."

"Who is the person?"

"Don't know. He says he saw you last time about a book. He says you know." I sigh and abandon the boxes to check the customer. I am about to remove my hoodie when I remember my sick face in the mirror this morning. I keep it on.

"Good morning," I mutter and I stop when I see who it is. "You again," I say calmly. He smirks and places money on the desk.

"The other half just like I promised," he answers. I notice he has rolled up his sleeves to reveal the dark mark. What does he expect?

"Thank you. I hope your mother likes the book," I pick up the money and count it.

"She does, actually. So, Melissa, are you busy tonight?" he asks. I sneeze as a response. "You alright?"

"Just peachy," I answer. He leans in closer to see my face. "Don't! It's contagious," I retreat.

"Why did you come to work then?" he frowns.

"I have to work," I mutter stubbornly.

"Okay. Then how about it? Would you like to go somewhere?" Is he asking me out? I suddenly remember my plans.

"I can't tonight. Sorry," I reply.

"No problem. Tomorrow night then," he says. I am about to blurt out a believable excuse when he is already walking to the exit. "I'll pick you from here when you're done." He disappears.

"But I'm sick!" I protest.

* * *

When I arrive home, my mind is preoccupied. I am not sure if it is because of my next victim tonight or because of what Draco Malfoy said today. I choose it to be the latter because my mind is never like this when I am about to go to the ministry for magic. I make my way towards my closet and push all the hanged clothes aside to reveal the long black cloak I wear to the wizard world. It makes me look almost like a death eater. The cloak was my father's.

I change my clothes into something dark and wrap the black cloak around myself before Disapparating. I arrive outside the infamous Borgin and Burkes shop. I remember before the war started when a group of death eaters managed to get into Hogwarts through the Vanishing cabinet here. I still wonder how the other pair got fixed. I heard it was broken at Hogwarts. Someone inside the school definitely fixed it – someone who was working for Voldemort. Draco got the dark mark, but when?

I quietly knock on the door; Hamish's eyes widen when he sees me. Slowly, he points at a customer in the shop. Oops, this is a wrong time to see Hamish alone. I cover myself with the cloak, never revealing my face and I walk inside the shop. I nearly gasp when I see the customer. What is Draco Malfoy doing here?

"So, you don't have any more of those stones?" he asks Hamish. His eyes land on me but he does not seem to look surprised so I guess I am well hidden. "I need those stones as soon as possible. I really need them." He is wearing the indifferent mask like he did the first time I saw him at the library.

"No, I'm afraid I don't have any more of those. However, I may have something similar," Hamish goes into the room behind the counter. Draco sneaks a glance at me, as if my very presence is making him uncomfortable. I am pretty sure if I talk he will recognize me. I walk around the shop, observing the things on sale. After a few minutes, Hamish returns and hands Draco a small sac.

"You say these are similar?" Draco asks quietly.

"Yes, it gives the same effect like the other ones," Hamish answers. "Almost works like veritaserum I can tell you that." I pause and listen attentively. Why does Draco need veritaserum?

"That's great," he replies. "I'm going to need it tomorrow." Tomorrow?! Why does he need it tomorrow? "I don't know how I'm going to use it without looking suspicious."

"What exactly do you need it for?"

"Someone is keeping a secret and I intend to let that secret out. I can't brew potions anymore so this is my only option."

"Someone close to you?"

"It doesn't seem like it. I just need to know the truth. It's almost killing me." My whole body is shaking. Is he talking about me? What does he want from me? Suddenly, I feel something tickling my nose. I try to stop it but nothing works and I sneeze. Draco and Hamish turn to look at me.

I clear my throat. "Sorry, got allergies," I mumble, making my voice hoarse and low to make it unrecognizable. Draco raises an eyebrow but then ignores me. I let out a sigh of relief. When Draco departs, Hamish closes down the shop. I remove the cloak and Hamish gasps at the sight of me.

"What happened to you?"

"I caught the flu," I mutter. "What did the guy want?"

"I'm sure you eavesdropped on the conversation to know what he wanted," Hamish says.

"No, I mean why did he want those stones?" I ask. Hamish sighs tiredly and that is when I notice the wrinkles on his frail face. Wow, my teacher is old now. My eyes travel up to the remaining white hair on his head. "I'm sorry, Hamish. I keep forgetting how time changes people. You're too tired and…"

"Nonsense, Elisa," Hamish says. "A few questions wouldn't hurt. I know, for a fact, that you met Mr. Malfoy somewhere."

I shrug. "Oh, that's him? Wow, he has grown up, hasn't he? I barely even recognized him."

"Come on, Elisa. Why did you change the sound of your voice? He knows you," Hamish protests.

"Fine, so what if he does?" I ask. "I have a mission to do so…"

"You're sick. You're not going on any mission tonight."

"No, that's not possible. This is a time-based plan. I need to do this. Or else it will ruin the whole operation."

"You being caught will ruin the operation," Hamish says. "Take my advice and go home. Get some rest. "

"No!" I slam my hands on the counter. "I _have _to do this!" Hamish finally gives in and brings out a newspaper.

"This," he points at a picture of a man. "Is Dennis Dartmouth. He works alongside the minister in court, sending guilty witches or wizards to Azkaban. A few days ago, he was caught torturing a death eater in his prison cell in Azkaban just because the death eater called him a mudblood. He's now locked up in his office at the ministry being watched by other aurors. He supposedly feels guilty but maybe this is the second time he has tortured death eaters."

"You think he was amongst those aurors when my parents were…?"

"It's quite possible," I nod and cover my head again, preparing to leave. "This is the perfect time to attack but you're sick so you can postpone it…we can find another time…"

"I'm going to do this. Sick or not," I reply stubbornly.

* * *

I arrive at the ministry, disguised as one of the workers. The original worker is currently resting his head in a public toilet. Just one strand of his hair in my little bottle of polyjuice potion and I am good to go. However, my nose still remains pink. Groaning in frustration at the visibility of my pink nose, I enter one of the lifts and head up to the office of Mr. Dennis Dartmouth.

I have memorized the entire ministry. I know where all the offices are located. I know every entrance and exit. I know when each worker finishes. By now, all the aurors must be in their offices. Most of the workers must be at home unless they are working the night. But something does not seem right when I reach my destination.

I immediately find Dartmouth's office but I see two aurors guarding the door. My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach. How many mistakes have I done this week? Well, it is time for plan B. I walk normally towards the office, trying to look as innocent as possible. As I approach, I begin to recognize the aurors guarding the door.

"Mr. Johnson, something wrong?" one auror asks. He has messy black hair and is wearing glasses. I gulp when the lightning-shaped scar comes into view.

"No, Mr. Potter, I just need to see Mr. Dartmouth," I reply, making my voice as husky as possible. Harry Potter looks at me with a suspicious glint in his eye. I refrain myself from sweating.

"You sound sick. Should you be at work tonight?" the second auror asks. He is a ginger with freckles. Ron Weasley.

"Yes, I seem to have caught the flu, Mr. Weasley," I mutter. "I just need to have a quick word with Mr. Dartmouth and I will be on my way home."

"Mr. Dartmouth does not really want any visitors," Harry says. I look at him pleadingly. "If it's just for a moment, Mr. Johnson…"

"Yes, just for a quick moment," I answer. Harry nods and allows me to open the door and enter Dartmouth's office. I smirk as the door closes behind me. Quickly, I cast a silencing spell on the door and I turn to Dennis Dartmouth. He looks drunk; there are three empty bottles of Firewhiskey on his desk. "Hello, Mr. Dartmouth," I say, revealing my naturally feminine voice.

"W-Who are you?" he says drowsily.

"Your worst nightmare," I reply and approach him.

"Go away! Stay back! Potter! Weasley!" he exclaims.

"They can't hear you," I say calmly. I sneeze. "Sorry about that."

"Potter! Weasley!"

I sneeze again. "Avada Kedavra!" Dennis Dartmouth falls limp on his chair. I wipe my nose when I notice my hands. They are becoming smaller. Oh no, the polyjuice potion is wearing off! I need to get out of here! I need to…

"Mr. Johnson, I think you…" Harry opens the door and stares at me for a long second. "Imposter…" he whispers.

I can feel my face changing shape. Harry pulls out his wand and aims it at me. I touch my face and realize it has become smaller. I cannot let him see me.

"Stupefy!" I exclaim. Harry dodges it and the spell lands on Ron. He falls unconscious.

"Who are you?" Harry asks.

"Not really important!" I reply, trying as best as possible to keep my voice unidentifiable.

"Ron, send a patronus!" Harry orders. Ron does not answer. "Ron?" I look for a way to escape. Harry is blocking the only exit from the office. His momentary distraction allows me to cast one spell at him.

"Stupefy!" I yell, aiming at Harry. It passes right by him. Why is my aiming terrible today? Harry then aims his wand at me.

"Expelliarmus!" he says. I jump behind the desk and fall on my hands and legs. They begin to hurt. "Show your true identity!" he snaps. What should I do? That is when I realize my wand is lying just a few meters away. I start to crawl slowly towards my wand. "Don't move! Imposter!" he says. Bloody hell, just shut up.

I need to keep my other abilities a secret for now, like the fact that I can do wandless magic and cast non-verbal spells. So as soon as I feel the magic energy from my wand course through me, I stand up with pride and cast a curse at Harry.

"Petrificus Totalus!" his eyes widen and his body becomes rigid and falls to the floor like a tree cut down. By then, I realize my face has nearly come back to its original form. I clean up evidence in the office and then turn to Harry. "I'm so sorry," I say, aiming my wand at his forehead. "You must not know who I am." With that said, I am about to cast another spell on him, a spell to make him forget the events of two minutes ago. However, before I can cast it, the lift comes up and several aurors rush out, armed and ready to attack. I look at Harry. "Please," I whisper. Time to use what the dark arts has taught me. I run towards the group of aurors at full speed and turn into black smog. A very weird spell that comes in handy. I escape out the window.

* * *

The next morning finds me in a livid state. I am furious because Hamish lectured me about being careless on my mission last night. It is not my fault I caught the flu. He should at least try and make me feel better. I remember how old he is and I suddenly feel guilty.

My flu has somehow become worse than it already is. I do not know how that is possible but it is. I am not sure if I will go to work today but if I do not, Draco Malfoy will not get his date. Maybe I should just stand him up. He is just going out with me to find out something from me. He wants to feed me cursed stones after all.

After ten minutes of thinking, I decide to just go to work and accept the date. Draco should not know that I know about the stones. I feel like he should not be trusted. I mean someone with that mark is seemingly treacherous. Who says Draco Malfoy is any different?

"Stay away from the customers, Mel!" Jessica orders as soon as I enter the library. I am late again. She grabs my arm and drags me to the storage room. "What's wrong?"

"I woke up like this," I mumble, rubbing my itching nose. "I don't know what's happening." Jessica checks my forehead for fever.

"Are you sure you have the flu? You should go see a doctor," she answers. "Maybe you should've stayed in today."

"I can't let you work all alone," I say. The way she is looking at me tells me that she knows exactly why I came to work today.

"That guy is taking you out today, isn't he?" she asks.

"No," I sniff. Jessica raises an eyebrow. I nod in defeat. "Yes…he is."

"You're going to scare him. You look really sick," she says. "Postpone the date, Melissa."

Jessica's words are always comforting. She spits out the truth right in my face and she does not care if it hurts or not. Her words make it possible for me to wait for Draco after we are done working. I like to do the complete opposite of what she says.

I am wearing a black turtleneck mini dress with white leggings and black boots. It is not so bad for a date, right? As I close down the library and turn to the street, I see Draco leaning against a street light. It is not raining tonight.

"You thought I wouldn't show up?" he asks, smirking. Then he observes my features. "You're still sick."

"I'm actually worse today, thanks for noticing," I mutter, approaching him but keeping a safe distance away.

"Come on; I won't get sick," he reaches out and grabs my hand.

"Yes you will," I protest. "Maybe we should do this another time…when I'm better…" he hands me a small vial.

"Take this; you will feel better for tonight," he says. I look at the vial suspiciously. "Don't worry; this is not poison." He chuckles when he realizes I do not trust him. "This is a potion, Melissa. It will help reduce the symptoms of the flu." My eyes widen when I hear him say potion. He knows. He chuckles again. "What, you didn't think I'd find out? I know that you know I'm a wizard."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I nearly drop the vial on the floor. Should I admit that what he just said is true? Or should I play cool and lie straight in his face? I choose the latter.

"What are you talking about?" I force a laugh out. "Are you crazy?"

Draco smirks and folds his arms across his chest. "Ah, Melissa, you know when you're sick it is so easy to know when you're lying."

"What do you mean?" Do my facial expressions change when I fall sick? This is becoming ridiculous.

He comes closer to me and looks at me straight in the eye. "You're lying," he whispers. I can feel my cheeks warm up. What is this bloody sickness doing to me? All of a sudden, I begin to notice him. His platinum blonde hair is falling in his eyes and he is wearing muggle clothes. Since when did wizards wear muggle clothes? No, scratch that. Since when did _pureblood _wizards wear muggle clothes?

"Fine…so what if I'm lying?" I ask. "What difference does it make?"

He chuckles. "It makes a big difference, darling," he says. "Which brings us to a very important question: how do you know about wizards?" his tone is scarily serious now.

Gods, if I just pretended to think that the dark mark was a tattoo he sucked at picking none of this would have happened. I cannot tell him I am a witch. That is out of the slim options I have.

"Why? Are you some sort of police? Will you kill me for knowing?" I ask, trying to sound more nonchalant than nervous.

"No, I'm not. I'm quite the opposite really," he replies, raising his sleeve up. "I'm pretty sure you know about this, don't you?" He is talking about the dark mark. I say nothing. My cover will be blown. "Melissa, I just need to know how you found out."

"Why is it so bloody important to you?" I ask, almost too harshly. "Why are you even associating with me? I know for a fact that some wizards don't talk to lower class people," I explain.

"How do you know that?" he asks.

I freeze. I need to think of a cover story fast. "M-My cousin is…was a witch," I stammer. That definitely sounded like a lie.

"Your cousin?" Oh, he believes me. I nod. "Who?"

"I don't think you knew her. She died years ago," I say. That seems to perk up his interest.

"She died?" he asks. I nod again. Then I sneeze. "Please, Melissa, drink the bloody potion." I stare at the vial. If it contained those stones, the colour of the potion would be different. Sighing, I decide to drink it. Surprisingly, I feel better as soon as I swallow it.

"Thanks," I mumble. "You shouldn't have brought me this."

"You remind me of someone," he blurts out. I frown. "I had a friend a long time ago," he chuckles. "Not really friend if you ask me. We fought more than anything." I look at the ground.

"What happened?"

"She disappeared before we started school. She's probably dead," he explains. "That's what everyone believes."

"I'm…sorry?" I ask.

"It was seven years ago," he smirks. "Her name was Elisa." I restrain my shock. So, he does remember me from seven years ago. I am not just a long lost memory to him.

"Why don't you answer my question?" I change the subject. "Why are you talking to me? I'm, how do you say it, _non-magical_."

"Because you're fascinating," he replies. "And those beliefs have been demolished for over a year now. All those who felt superior once now feel equal to the other wizards. I learnt that the hard way, though. I'm stubborn."

I cannot help but agree with him on that. "Yes, you are," I say. He chuckles and we begin walking down the street. "Where are we going?"

"I know about this cool eating place," he replies, almost excitedly. "It's called McDonalds."

I laugh. "Wow, a so-called high class wizard eating at McDonalds? I'd love to see that."

"What's wrong with McDonalds?"

"You don't seem like a fan of junk food," I comment. He looks lost. Maybe he does not know what junk food is. "Let's just find out."

McDonalds is packed with people as expected. Draco looks utterly lost as I head over to the counter to take our orders.

"Hey! They should bring the food to our table," Draco says.

"This is McDonalds; we get the food ourselves," I explain to him. "Now what do you want to eat?"

* * *

After giving Draco a long explanation of how the service at McDonalds works, we take our food and Draco chooses a spot on the stairs of a closed museum to eat. He prefers this to the crowd of muggles at McDonalds. He says I am fascinating but in my opinion I think it is the other way round. We eat in silence for a while, just enjoying the cold night air.

Then my curiousity kicks in. "What brought such an eligible wizard like you to this part of London?" I ask.

He smirks. "I didn't come here by choice," he says. "This is part of my punishment."

I pause. "Punishment?"

"Yes," he answers. "All the convicted death eaters, you know, the followers of the dark lord, were sentenced to either a lifetime in Azkaban or immediate death through the Dementor's kiss." Wow, when was the last time I heard of Azkaban? The last thing I remember is seeing it in one of the old newspapers from the wizard world when Sirius Black escaped. Oh yes, and when that crazy, Voldemort-infatuated death eater escaped as well – Bellatrix Lestrange. I have not really heard other big stories since then. To me, Azkaban is like a legendary prison I will I never get to see. Honestly, I believe it will give me the chills.

"So you are a death eater," I tell Draco.

"Not by choice. I was a coward," he replies. "I was sort of pressurized into becoming one. When the war ended, the ministry just thought of me as a boy who couldn't follow his own path and chose to follow in his father's footsteps. A boy who was lost and wanted to belong somewhere," he explains. "I wasn't sent to Azkaban like the others. Instead, I was forced to hand over my wand for six months. I'm not allowed to lay my hands on any potion ingredients. The potion I gave you was one of my last ones. And, I'm supposed to do some kind of help in muggle communities."

"One day, I was walking around the place when I came across the library. I was in dire need of a muggle book," he finishes.

"Do you miss being a wizard all the time?" I ask.

"Yes but living without magic is not so bad either. Anyway, I will be done with the muggle service in two weeks or so," he says.

"Back to paradise?" I tease.

"I wish," he laughs. "Apparently, there is a killer on the loose now. A lot of ministry officials and aurors are dead," he adds. "I wonder who would do that."

"What do you think of this killer?"

"I mean, I never was a fan of the ministry but the killer must have a good reason why he or she is doing this," he says. "You should see the death eaters. They worship this killer. They think he is some kind of 'Voldemort'." No, please. They cannot really refer me to the dark lord, can they? I am just a naïve and stubborn eighteen-year-old witch who cannot seem to find closure. That is exactly what I am.

When we are done eating, I decide to take Draco to the cinema.

* * *

"It was a great evening," I mumble the next day. Jessica is throwing several questions at me and none of them seem to register in my mind. I am not really listening to her. My head is resting on my desk with my hoodie over my head. I feel awful.

"I've been telling you for the past five minutes to go home, Melissa!" she exclaims in frustration. "You can't come to work like this!"

"I'm fine," I lift my head up. My eyes feel droopy. My head feels heavy. And my whole body feels sore.

"Bloody hell, you're stubborn," she is definitely aggravated. "You need to see a doctor, alright?" she asks. No, I do not. It is just the flu. Or, I probably caught a virus. Suddenly, the room begins to spin around me and I can see Jessica's head enlarge to the size of a pumpkin. Her voice sounds like an echo to my ears. I look around the library and I can see the shelves, tempted to fall down. I run a hand down my face. I do not feel so good.

Then Jessica is snapping her fingers in my face, making me focused again for a split second. "Go to the office upstairs and sleep if you refuse to go home," she says. It is more of an order than a request. I nod and stand up but my legs feel like jelly and it is unexpectedly very difficult to take a step forward. I struggle to get upstairs, giving the crowd of customers quite a show.

As easy as Disapparating, I fall on the soft mauve sofa that is lined up against the olive green-coloured walls of Jessica's disorganized office. She has a long mahogany desk at the front of the room, filled with pictures of her family and of me and her. The lights in her office are dim. I always wonder why she never got them repaired. Laziness must have prevented her. She has a personal bookshelf; it is either greediness or her passion for books that makes her hide the newest editions here.

As I look outside the window and notice the first raindrops of a heavy storm, I lie back on the sofa and slowly drift off to sleep to the commencement of pit pat sounds on the roof.

* * *

When I wake up, I am freezing even though there is a black heavy jacket wrapped around me. I attempt to go back to sleep but then I realize something. The jacket is not mine. My eyes snap wide open and this action causes my brain to pound vigorously against my skull. Draco is sitting on an empty chair. I slowly sit up.

"What are you doing here?" I ask confused.

"Your friend told me you were upstairs," he says. "You're sick, Melissa. You have to go to the hospital."

"It's just the flu," I mumble but as soon as I say that the pain in my head shoots straight to the other parts of my body. I gasp. "At least, I think so."

"You'll go tomorrow. We'll make an appointment today, alright?" he answers. I nod because my throat is suddenly clogged up and I am finding it difficult to produce words. I spot a bottle of water on the desk and I point at it for Draco to hand it over. Immediately, he does so and I drink down the water hurriedly.

"How long were you here?" I finally manage to ask.

"A while," he replies. No, Draco, your response is not vague at all. I sigh and run a hand across my forehead. "You should go back to sleep," he adds. I shake my head. Not when I know he is here.

"I'm not tired anymore," I mutter but when my head starts to sway and my eyelids seem too heavy to hold up, I finally admit that I am lying to myself. "I don't feel so good…" Apart from being so exhausted after a few hours of sleep, another symptom attacks me and I am rushing to the bathroom. I have not eaten anything today so as the bile rises up my throat and comes out, it is all water.

"Get out of here, Draco," I order. "Please," I add. When I look up, he is not moving. He is standing rooted to the spot, appalled by what just happened. "What, you haven't seen a normal person fall sick? Get out; I don't even want you to see me like this." An order is an order. He turns away and walks out of the office without saying anything. Well, that was rude. He could have at least said 'get well soon' or something.

As soon as the office is empty, I collapse on the floor, too lazy to return to the sofa. Draco and Jessica are right; maybe I should go see a doctor.

By the time I realize that I am freezing on the cold floor, it is late afternoon. Did I fall asleep on the floor? I mean it is not a big surprise but my back is aching and my hands are shaking from the cold. I gradually begin to stand up but as soon as I try supporting my weight on my two feet, one foot seems to malfunction and my hands grasp onto the nearest object to stop me from falling down. This is nothing. My foot probably fell asleep. What else could it be?

The library is empty once I arrive downstairs. Jessica is still present, reading a book at the desk. I clear my throat and walk over to her with difficulty because of my galling leg. Jessica looks up and closes her book.

"You are seeing the doctor tomorrow, understood?" she says. "This is not a bloody flu!"

"You're right, Jessica," I mumble. "It's getting worse."

"Jessica, I'm done with the boxes…" Draco emerges from the storage room. His sleek hair is unusually ruffled and his sleeves are folded almost to his elbows.

"Thanks, Draco," she replies. I look at the two of them confused. "He was just helping out."

"Are you okay?" Draco asks me. I nod. "What happened to your foot?"

I look down at my foot. "Apparently, it stopped working for a while," I sigh, unable to find a better response. Jessica giggles a bit. "You can laugh all you want," I chuckle a bit. "But it's rude."

Draco bursts out laughing as well. "Come on; what's so funny?" I ask. I am getting worried. Surely they would not be laughing at my unresponsive leg for so long.

"Nothing, Melissa," Draco replies smirking. "You just…look confused."

"That's because I am confused!" I protest.

"Alright, whiny baby," Jessica says. "Let's close up the library. We're done for today."

* * *

Once I am at my apartment, I use my wand to try and reduce the pain on my foot. Unfortunately, Hamish did not teach me any healing spells from my years of learning. But I am determined to at least try. I have a mission tonight.

Yes, I know Hamish will murder me for going on a mission in this condition but I have no option. My plan will falter if I do not.

I manage to reduce a bit of the pain in my foot by taking some painkillers. Hopefully it will postpone the pain until I am done with the mission. I wear my father's death eater cloak and Disapparate to Borgin and Burkes. Just as expected, Hamish yells at me for even coming. He says I am an idiot but nevertheless he explains the next mission to me, not even bothering to hide his reluctance.

"Gordon Lewinski, Kingsley Shacklebolt's right hand man, was one of the people in charge of sentencing the death eaters to their fate," Hamish explains. "He is normally…"

"In the courtroom," I answer him. He nods. "I knew his name was familiar. He was part of the aurors who killed my parents," I mutter. I remember his name now. When he barged into my house with the others and attacked my parents, I heard my father mention his name. I completely forgot about that until now. Time to die, Lewinski.

"Are you ready to do this?" Hamish asks. I smirk as an answer. Of course I am.

* * *

This time, I am disguised as an innocent-looking woman who works with Lewinski in the courtroom. I hope that this mission goes flawlessly. I cannot afford another screw up.

"Hello, Dorothy," a worker acknowledges me in the lift. I nudge my head at the stranger as we head to the courtroom. We spend a minute of awkward silence before the lift halts tersely and we are jerked forward a bit. The lift opens and I walk out, keeping a somewhat death grip on my wand. I do not really like the courtroom because it is usually filled with those creepy soul-suckers – Dementors. Yes, I am terrified of Dementors.

Lewinski is interrogating someone when I arrive. Nobody pays attention to me as I head over to the empty seat beside him. The room is so cold and Lewinski is protected by his Patronus. I look down at the center of attention and I instantaneously identify the person although it has been a long time. However, the last time I remember her she had much longer hair.

"So you're telling me that you have no connection to this?" Gordon asks her. She shakes her head and runs her hand through her very short hair.

"I have no idea who this person is, alright? I don't know anyone who would do this so please let me go," she complains. Lewinski nods and two aurors grab both of her arms. "What's going on?"

"By order of the ministry, we are obliged to be more cautious in the case of the killer," he says. "You are sentenced to a week in Azkaban for now." They cannot just send her to Azkaban. She did not do anything. I meticulously pull out my wand and look around if anyone is watching. I aim at Lewinski but something changes my mind and I am aiming at the two aurors holding Pansy Parkinson.


End file.
